No Words
by krispielee
Summary: Despite being raised by the most close-minded and traditional of vikings on Berk, Hiccup took after his wild, dragon-loving mother. Is it not possible that his sister, nurtured by Valka, might live in her father's image? OC *Collection of One-Shots*
1. No Words

**I own nothin**

* * *

She almost went back.

There were several times, usually when she was thinking of her husband and son, that made her rethink her decision. But then she would see the hatchlings wrestling under the watchful eye of their parents, or she would see a shy young dragon offer up some fish to a potential mate, or she would wake up wrapped in the wings of an adoring Stormcutter, and she knew she could never bring herself to go back.

Her first few days there had been a little frightening. The Stormcutter that taken her from her home, whom she later named Cloudjumper, had dropped her into the center of it all, surrounded by dragons of all shapes and sizes and quite a few she had never seen before. Many were curious about her, but none of them hostile.

But the first time she mustered up the courage to ride him, it changed everything.

She entertained the thought of leaving for _years_ after that, but she knew deep down she never could.

Even after she discovered she was pregnant.

It caused her a lot of stress, even a premature gray streak in her hair, thinking about her firstborn. Hiccup had been early, small, and weak and even with the entire village behind her and supporting her, she still feared he would not live long.

If something went wrong this time. . .

But Cloudjumper was always gentle with her as she grew rounder and had trouble getting around, and he chased off any who weren't. The curved claws at the end of his wings held her hands and helped her climb the larger stones around the nest, and he always brought her back a hot meal. She never went hungry. Even during the long winters that hit even the toughest of viking villages, she always had a full belly.

Valka worried about her new baby. She felt guilty about keeping it from its father. Guilty that Stoick would never know about his second son or the new daughter she had. Not even to mention that she was _alive_. But then she thought about raising it to fight dragons, the kind creatures that had shown her a whole new world, and she knew it wasn't possible.

Her new son or daughter would be much safer in a den of dragons than a village of vikings.

This feeling only amplified when she was introduced to the king of the nest.

A dragon larger than life, snowy, white, with tusks the size of the Great Hall. Kind, intelligent eyes. The beast had seen centuries before her and was likely to live long after. None of the dragons under his command showed her any malice. He eyed her with amusement when she spotted him and puffed out an air of frost to greet her. She was amazed.

She fell in love with her new life with dragons. Valka wanted to share it with her little one.

Her fear for her new baby battled with the new excitement. Thinking of everything the two could learn together. All they could _do_ together. All the joy that could come from it.

That didn't make the labor any easier.

Cloudjumper stayed with her through it all, and she had the right sense to get everything ready for her the weeks leading up to the estimated birth. She had bowls filled with water, furs and blankets and things making her bed as soft as possible. She managed to acquire fabrics and needle and thread to make clothing for the new arrival. Crafting these things certainly gave her something to do during the later months when she found it difficult to stand on her own. Her second baby arrived right on time.

Dragons didn't seem to have quite the same troubles giving birth that humans did and many of them were quite concerned at her painful screams echoing around the caves. Cloudjumper did his part of keeping out unwanted guests during the ordeal.

Still, it was nearly impossible on her own.

Hours upon hours.

Until it was over.

And then it all seemed worth it.

Her new baby girl. Strong lungs, waving fists. Larger than Hiccup had been. Healthy. A fighter.

She could see the beginnings of wild red hair sprout from the girl's head. Valka herself had been rather small when she was born, but it looked like her daughter had taken after her father this time.

And Valka couldn't be happier.

* * *

Valhallarama grew fast and tough. Valka felt comfortable leaving her newborn daughter under the watchful eye of Cloudjumper any time she left the room, but it was still a few weeks before she felt comfortable introducing her girl to the rest of the nest.

Her daughter was happy, smiling, arms poking out from her blanket of furs to pat the noses of any that came close enough to her. Her girl giggled at the waves of heat that erupted from the nostrils sniffing her. Valka knew her girl was safe around any of them. Rama left even the mightiest of Monstrous Nightmares putty under her innocent laughter.

And her baby girl wasn't scared of any of them.

As weeks turned to months and months turned to her first year, Valka noticed something different about her girl.

She did her best to talk to her daughter every chance she got. Using a wide range of vocabulary since she was the only other human her daughter could interact with and learn from, but while she learned enough from her to begin simple words, "mama", "'lau'umper" for 'Cloudjumper', "dragon" and a few other ones, Valka noticed she often greeted her mother's face with an affectionate growl or purr.

Almost identical now to the way Cloudjumper greeted her in the mornings.

Valka tried not to let this bother her, and she couldn't help a smile as her girl experimented with the other hatchlings in the nest.

Cloudjumper took on a role like a father to her. Valka could ask him to watch her while she left to fetch water or check up on the other side of the nest, and he would lounge nearby and roar out at her if she ever got into trouble.

Which she often did.

Rama spent every second she could climbing out on large rocks hanging on the edge of long drops and the on legs of dragons much larger than herself.

It was even worse when the little girl made herself a friend.

It had taken Valka longer than she felt comfortable admitting to earn the trust of the baby she found trapped in one of the many nets out in the forest. She looked around for many hours for the next few days before she concluded that the hatchling didn't have parents, and she and Cloudjumper brought him back to their nest until he was well enough to live on his own.

Valka originally thought the hatchling just wasn't a common species and had never been documented in the viking's Dragon Manuel. It was only a baby, but she could still identify many of its major features: larger wingspan; and similar to an infant Timberjack, only a little smaller with a second set of front legs. He had long horns and a thin neck. His wings made him stand out most to Valka. The dragon's wing bones branch into several distinct diamond-shaped lobes, completed with a thin and pointed tip. His back was a darker purple or blue color and it faded out to a pale white or silver at the tips.

All the dragons in the nest contributed to each other, and all took part in raising the little ones, making sure they didn't get hurt or into serious trouble, so Valka set him loose after she was sure he wasn't hurt. He wandered around on his own, usually playing by himself or settling down and observing the other dragon's daily life until Rama joined him in a play fight or for a game of tag or something that might resemble Hide Fox and All After.

The viking woman had paid little attention to their games at first, but the sight of them spending time together always made her smile.

Valka eventually learned that this was her daughter's companion. Valka had Cloudjumper. He was Rama's dragon half.

It took a while before she convinced the shy hatchling to follow them back to their cave to spend the night with them; but once he found his way inside (and learned that it was safe and he was welcome), he and Rama were inseparable.

They slept together, ate together, explored together. They even got in trouble together.

Rama, who originally was growling and roaring to mimic her Stormcutter father-figure, sounded much like her new dragon partner. Not as deep, something shrill and echoing.

Valka managed to decipher the name of the dragon from these clicks and growls that came from her mouth. 'Snares' was _unusual_ , but Valka thought it fit together perfectly his calm and serene nature.

He was a stark contrast to Rama's aggressive and outgoing personality, but the way her girl said it with such affection made her fill with joy.

It was only after she turned six that Valka learned exactly what Snares was, and that vikings _did_ in fact have a name for his species.

He had flown short distances before, but with all the time he and Rama had spent together, he could never go very far with her hanging onto him like she always was (not that he seemed to mind). But he went through a growth spurt in the span of one summer, growing to a size large enough to fly around the nest with her daughter hanging precariously on his back (which originally made Valka a little nervous, but she learned well that her daughter was as safe in the sky as she was on land (at least when they were flying in the nest surrounded by more responsible dragons that would catch her if she ever fell)). He left a light whistling sound in his wake as he flew here and there.

The sound caused Valka to pause, think back. And it began to make sense. The shy personality, the silver belly and wingtips. How rare he was. Why she had never seen one before.

He was a Silver Phantom.

Silver Phantoms, like Boneknappers and Smothering Smokebreaths, were rare to the point some people believed them to be myths. She should have known better after her years living with them.

A species that flew too high for arrows to hit, avoided humans religiously, and never joined in on the raids.

By the time they were ten, the two were flying like a single being.

Rama grew tough and compassionate to her dragon nestmates, everything Valka wanted from her. She learned to speak Norse to her mother and communicated to the dragons in growls and clicks and purrs indistinguishable from the real thing.

It was her daughter that taught Valka to communicate like that.

Her daughter explained in her own words the right growls and purrs to say, "Good morning", "good night", "Back off", and "I'm hungry".

Valka wasn't as fluent as her daughter and preferred to speak Norse, but she could not deny the usefulness of the skill and listened intently to the sounds of her own dragon companion and her daughter until they could both understand their large reptilian family.

The reptilian family that was far more accepting than the viking one she could have lived with.

It was easier to be a dragon than it was to be a human. Rama knew this, but Valka had trouble leaving behind the traditions ingrained in her soul. Valka had to learn early on which viking traditions she could get away with imposing onto her daughter and which she could not.

Rama often complained about her hair being brushed each morning and put into a complicated braid. She complained about not being able to just jump up from her bed as soon as she woke and onto the back of Snares for a long flight around the nest. She eyed brushes with disdain and scowled menacingly at the floor every time her mother forcibly sat her down for the morning ritual.

The woman really should have seen it coming, actually.

Valka took few things from the viking world back to the nest. Fabric was one, metal was another. Certain methods of cooking though they never seemed to turn out right. Some man-made objects were just a necessity.

She kept a few spare knives and things for cooking around her home cave, picked up from her own raids or visits to viking homes. It was really a matter of time before Rama took one to her own hair.

The girl cut it into sloppy, choppy locks that fell unevenly around her head. A sight that made her resemble a poor viking boy rather than the feral dragon girl she was. Valka shouted at her for it for several minutes while her daughter smiled smugly at her clever tactic. Rama was not easily intimidated, especially when she was certain she was in the right.

She was slightly less smug when Valka grounded her: a term that, in this case, was literal.

Valka could understand the reason behind her daughter cutting her hair to the point it couldn't be tied back, It was more manageable and less likely to get in the way during flight. However, years of tradition behind her made her hesitant to change it. She loved her daughter's bright red hair; she loved braiding it back and running her hands through it. It hurt her inside to see the uneven butchery of her daughter's hair. She needed to fix the horrific sight at once, taking the knife and cutting it into even lengths on each side, tugging slightly harder than was necessary as she did so.

It was a tough few months. Both sides refusing to acknowledge any wrongdoing, having it seep into their relationship and make everything they did together stiff and clumsy. They eventually came to a compromise.

Valka taught her daughter to work with her hands and build up an armor and warm suit that could withstand the frigid temperatures she felt when flying high in the sky and easily bind her hair down so it wouldn't need to be tied back so tightly. Valka had already been thinking of making herself a mask. Freed any dragons she found in traps or cages on her flights out, but she knew eventually she would run into someone. Someone who she might know. Who might recognize her and spread the word. . .

Rama perked up at the idea of armor, knowing full well how easy it was to cut herself falling from a decent height or scrape up her exposed skin when she slipped her footing on the boulders she climbed. All she had to do was promise not to cut her hair.

She did not hesitate.

Together the two of them crafted decorated armor and masked helmets that could disguise them and protect them from the wind and cold while simultaneously honoring their dragon companions.

Valka based hers on the great alpha that guarded and protected them. Her mask had the spines that poked up from his head and the two tusks on either side of his chin. She color coded it asymmetrically, with blue paint and the occasional orange and red stripes. The mask had started simple and evolved over the years, becoming more and more complex as her time as a dragon lady went on.

Rama decorated her own like her dragon brother. She dyed it pale colors, the purple and blue from her dragon found its way over her back and down the nose of her pale white and ivory mask.

Her mask did not have the same horns and spines that her mother's did. She felt it was inconvenient, interrupted the astonishing speeds her companion liked to fly at.

The girl was a daredevil.

Even as young as thirteen, she spent her time out hunting boars and things with her bare hands. She gained practice from tackling and slamming down the horns of playful Monstrous Nightmares or wrestling with juvenile Gronckles. Rama's green eyes were wild and vicious and could terrify the hearts of normally aggressive wild wolves and pigs.

By the time she was fifteen, she was going off alone on trips for weeks at a time, returning with wild grins and cooked meats from creatures Valka had never tasted before. At first, Valka was nervous about the risk taking her daughter was known for; but the knowledge that she rode eased this. A clear-headed and calm dragon like her Silver Phantom was a perfect match. Valka trusted Snares to keep her safe since he was one of the few creatures Rama would even listen to.

No, Rama didn't act _exactly_ like Stoick. Valka knew this.

Rama was what Stoick would have been if he'd been raised away from other people, without the responsibility and knowledge he would one day become chief of the tribe. She lacked his discipline and the expectations Stoick's father had placed on his shoulders at a young age. Something she was sure her own son had grown to fill the boots of.

But Rama had the same protective nature in her eyes when she fought off dragon trappers on the back of her lifelong partner.

It put an ache in her heart, but the similarities between them made so many things easier for her. Rama did not ask her questions about vikings. Valka wasn't sure what her daughter thought, or _knew_. Rama had never asked why they were the only humans to ride and live with dragons. The only ones who _saw_ them for what they were.

Valka meditated on it, uncertain whether or not it was a good thing that her girl never asked.

She had avoided it for twenty years.

She had been able to only think of it in passing, comparing the hard strength of her daughter to the bull-like intensity of her husband. Thinking about them more than they would ever realize.

But, _oh gods_.

Rama was just like Stoick.

She did not need to know what wasn't _directly_ in front of her. She did not need to think of a world outside of the one she lived in. She knew dragons, lived and hunted and rode with them. She did not know vikings. They were cruel and savage creatures that were to be avoided, or fought, or killed.

She was just like Stoick.

Rama knew what families were, of course. There were many dragons that mated for life, raised their young together and kept in touch with family regularly. But Rama had never had any father figure apart from Cloudjumper. She had no human siblings. She saw no humans that weren't immediately aggressive to her or the dragons she so fiercely protected.

Rama never asked about her father, and Valka never told her.

But then Hiccup was there.

Spotted while he was flying somewhere west of the nest on the back of a Night Fury of all dragons.

At first when she had spotted him, Valka had thought he was no better than the trappers that used dragons as slaves to fight and work for them. The rare black dragon she saw was missing a tailfin, replaced with a man-made leather contraption so bright and red it was like the rider was bragging at having done it. It was common viking knowledge: the easiest way to down and kill a dragon was to take out the wings or tails.

The easiest way to have a dragon at your mercy.

It seemed this man had done just that: crippled the dragon to the point it could not fly without assistance.

The creatures were born to fly. The black dragon would do anything to feel the clouds again.

Even fly with a viking on his back.

Valka had stopped them in their tracks immediately, pulling up from beneath cloud coverage and into their path to distract them. The rider was a relatively young man, slimmer than most vikings were, but still handsome.

He did not immediately attack them, but she would not give him the benefit of the doubt.

Valka swung her long staff around, directing one of her followers to grab the rider from the saddle and to follow her lead.

They were over a frozen lake. The fall the dragon took would not hurt him, and he would be herded back to the nest by the pod of Sea Shockers living there.

She did not miss the horrified yell from the snatched rider being carried behind her.

Nor his pleading voice as she took him back to her home.

"Hey! You left my dragon back there! He can't fly on his own; he'll drown!"

The concern in his tone was not lost on her, but she did not warrant a reply. She simply locked the knowledge away in her head, ready to test this dragon rider without mercy.

She flew through the nest into the darker caverns where the nocturnal dragons slept and had him dropped in the middle of it all.

She fully expected him to freak out, perhaps scream, maybe let out a war-cry and try his hand at taking down a few before they killed him.

But none of that happened.

He landed on his feet, looking around frantically and called out to her, "We have to head back for my dragon!"

Perhaps he was obsessive. The Night Fury (she couldn't think of anything else it could be) was a priceless dragon in the trapping world. Maybe this character was materialistic, valuing his 'property' more than his own life.

But he surprised her again.

He held out steady hands to the closest dragon in front of him before reaching down his left to grab the hilt of something metal on the side of his leg.

It was no weapon she had ever seen, a sword or axe or anything that could do any real damage. Valka would not have set him in the center of the cavern if she thought he was a threat to any of the dragons nearby.

He clicked one of the buttons on the strange object and a glowing rod ejected from one end. She saw it drip steadily a few times as he held what looked like a flaming sword in front of himself. She recognized it as Monstrous Nightmare saliva.

He waved it around, over his shoulders in a similar way she did with her own staff. She had based hers off of the windy, echoing sounds the alpha made as he took control of his dragons under him. Hers did not have such a wide reaching effect as the original, but it helped with training she combined with the clicks the staff could make.

But it seemed like the flaming sword worked in a more visual way. Valka watched as the Snafflefang's eyes dilated and grew more loving and trusting towards the stranger.

She had never seen another viking capable of this feat.

Only herself. . .

. . . And her daughter.

Valka stayed where she was.

It was one thing to calm a dragon, he still had the rest of the cave to please before she was ready to make another move toward him.

He seemed to realize it too. While the dragon directly in front of him was fine with the intruder, the dragon behind him was still skeptical, claws tapping impatiently on the floor and ready to march forward threateningly. One a few rows back let out a whining roar, and the man looked up and glanced around himself again, the flaming sword dropped to his side.

He spun on his heel, which Valka now noticed he only had one of. Just below the knee to his left leg was cut off and replaced with a prosthetic.

In a flash the light of the fire was gone, and Valka's well trained eyes watched in the dark as he pulled a small canister from his flesh leg. He ejected something from the device in his hand and then popped in the new one in one fluid motion. By this point, there were several dragons all around him closing in and ready to take out their frustrations from their interrupted sleep.

The young man flipped the object in his hand and swooped his leg around as he sprayed a strong-smelling green gas around him into a circle. Using his free hand, he blocked his face and ignited it with the push of a button. The small spark turned the green gas into black smoke, and all the surrounding dragons took a collective step back away from him.

It was like a switch had flipped in their minds.

The man now stood up straight and confident, holding out one hand to the dragon closest to complete the bond.

It was then Valka interrupted.

He knew what he was doing, she'll give him that.

But she was still on the defensive, her shield in front of her and her staff at the ready as she circled him in sideways steps.

"Who are you?" He asked as soon as she entered his field of vision.

She did not answer.

"The dragon thief?"

Nothing.

"Uhh," He looked less and less on edge as she continued to circle him in silence. "Drago Bludvist?"

He all but confirmed he was not working with Drago just by asking that.

Unless he was trying to trick her.

She wasn't taking any chance.

She stopped in her path.

"Do you even understand what I'm saying?" He sounded a little impatient now, but she barely heard him as she began swing her staff around and slam the end to the stone floor below them.

At her signal, the dragons flew from the cover behind her and brought out the Night Fury he had been riding. He was soaking wet, probably cold from the temperature outside, but dragons had an immeasurable tolerance to temperature fluctuations and would be perfectly fine.

"Toothless!" The young man's face lit up once he saw his dragon again, and Valka watched as he lunged forward to grab the Fury's face into a hug. He murmured quiet reassurances to his companion. "I'm glad to see you too, bud."

The dragon seemed to share this sentiment, nuzzling back at the rider, shaking water from his head.

"You really had me worried, there," The rider went on, smiling as the dragon gave his entire right side of his face a long lick.

You can't fake that.

Valka turned slightly to the side, shaking her staff a few times to encourage the surrounding dragons to give more light. Then she took the few steps closer, leaving behind her shield and staff to crawl towards the aggressive dragon that was now curling around his rider protectively.

It only took a wave of her hand to reduce the guard to nothing but mush, and then her attention was back on the man.

She moved closer, hand outstretched, taking a good long look at his face.

And she saw it.

He had the same scar on his chin, the very last thing Valka had ever seen happen to him. The cut he got from Cloudjumper the day she was taken to the nest for the first time.

She froze, pulling back to lean on the leg farthest from him.

"Hiccup?" Her voice nearly broke as she stared at him.

His reaction confirmed it. She could see it in his face. It was him.

Her son.

Her boy.

With a _dragon_ companion just as she and just as her daughter had.

His _sister_.

How was she going to explain this?

He did not know her.

Of course. He did not even know she was his mother.

Even when she told him, with a hopeful, nervous, pray smile, he was gasping.

She couldn't do it here.

She could explain out there, in the nest.

It only took her a few seconds to formulate what could barely pass as a plan.

She shushed his rising questions and waved one hand as a signal for him to follow her.

"Come."

* * *

Hiccup did not immediately spot his sister.

Rama was not particularly intimidating in her size, but she could easily give off an aggressive and terrifying aura on the occasion she straightened from her feral crouch or sneaking way she stepped, silently crossing the moss-covered stones below them. Even at 5'10" (a normal young woman's height in the viking world), when she straightened her frame, she was a mountain that could not be moved.

Valka had not spent a very long time speaking with her son before her daughter noticed the guest. Rama was on the back of Snares, creeping silently up from the drop off where many of the more curious dragons were examining the newcomers themselves before she silently slipped from her partner's shoulders and onto the ground behind him and directly within sight of her mother. Rama gave the Night Fury an experienced and calming stroke as she passed before approaching the first human to set foot in the nest since the two had began living there two decades ago.

Hiccup was back to watching the dragons flying around one of the center columns of the open space, taking in the knowledge his mother had just revealed to him. That she was alive and well. That she had been rescuing dragons and had left him and his father alone all this time. He didn't notice the predator behind him until she was only a few feet away.

He nearly jumped out of his skin, stepping a few feet away, arms raised a little defensively at the masked creature creeping up on him.

Valka could only watch, amazed by the drastic difference between them. Her children.

Her son was the thoughtful kind, it seemed. First on the defensive at the intruder before him, not ready to attack or retaliate until she proved herself to be a threat. Her daughter was on the prowl, head tilted curiously as she gave the Hiccup a wider birth and ready to strike at any given moment.

"I- - uhh- - who- -? Who are you?" He was confused, as to be expected.

Rama did not answer him, she merely turned her head farther, circling back around him for a second to examine him from all sides (or as much as he would let her since he was turning to keep her in front of him).

"Uhh, mom?" He turned back to his mother, confused, but less nervous once the initial surprise had worn off.

Rama's mind latched onto the word like a starving animal onto a fresh fish.

 _Mom?_

Rama stopped her movements for a moment.

His mom?

They shared a mother?

Rama threw all caution to the wind.

She had a _brother_?

She eliminated the space between them at once, almost causing him to step back as she reached out a plain hand just shy of touching him. She stared at his face intently, looking for similarities between the man and his mother. It was harder for her, since she was inexperienced in looking at human faces.

His hair differed from hers. The auburn color lay somewhere between Rama's red and their mother's brown braids. His eyes were like looking into a mirror: the same forest green. But the harder she looked at them the kinder they seemed, a sharp difference from what she saw in her own reflection: the fierceness was gone, replaced with. . . _something else_. It was like looking at her mother.

Her brother. . .

The young man looked back at her, now uncomfortable with how little distance there was between them.

It was Valka that saved him.

"Rama," She only said her name, but it was not enough to make her daughter look away. "Please, give him some space."

It took effort, but the dragon girl moved a few steps back from her brother, sideways so she could come back to her mother's side. It was something like a woman calling off her dog: amplified by the inhuman mask covering Rama's face and the ferocious crouch she stepped around him with.

Even the dragon-like way her mother crouched was easier to manage than her. Rama had known nothing different.

"Hiccup," Valka continued, nervousness hiding new excitement from standing in the presence of her son again after all these years. "This is Rama," She hesitated for a moment before continuing, eyeing his reaction. "Your sister."

There was a moment of nothing.

Then.

"Si- - My si- -" Hiccup's eyes were wide, staring at his mother as though she could be lying to him.

Valka herself had turned to her girl, growling something that might come deep from the throat of a Stormcutter, her head making a sharp jerk to amplify it.

 _Take off your mask_.

Rama did as her mother asked, reaching a curled hand up to unlatch the stained ivory and reveal her face.

Hiccup was still trying to wrap his confused mind around the shock as he watched her do this. His sister? Was she _adopted_ by Valka during the two decades his mother had been gone? Was she snatched up and taken to the nest as a baby? Or was she really a blood relative? A half sibling?

It seemed impossible to comprehend, from the stories told that she could be a half sister. His father worshiped the stories left behind by Hiccup's mother, a woman the son never had the chance to know. The only woman his father ever seemed to love and who had loved him back just as fiercely. Valka might have stayed away for twenty years; but she wouldn't break from their marriage like _that_ , would she?

She had left his father, was it not possible she fell in love with someone else?

But then his sister took off the mask covering her and there was no room left for doubt.

The same red hair, same upturned round nose, same sharp look in the same green eyes.

His sister.

An image of Stoick the Vast.

"Rama," Valka looked at her girl when she did nothing. "This is your- -"

"- - brother," Rama interrupted.

Her voice was strange, he noticed. Rough around the edges in a way he couldn't quite describe. Leaning closer to the accent the older generation, including his mother, carried than the way he and his friends spoke, despite them being about the same age.

Was there an etiquette to this sort of thing?

Considering it was _Hiccup_ that had the most social experience between the three, they didn't stand a chance.

Or so he thought, right until Toothless nudged forward to say a proper hello to the newest member of the little family. He grinned a fangless smile at her and she smiled right back, a wolf- -no, _dragon_ -like grin that would make a younger him freeze in his place.

But she bounded around his lifelong partner, his best friend, like they'd known each other all their lives. Slowly turning their game into a play fight. One she held up her own in as though she had the strength of a Rumblehorn. The sight was a mockery of his own attempt just that morning.

Despite the three inches he had on his little sister, he once again felt like the hiccup in the family.

Even against the stress he felt over the situation, the confusion and what might could be resentment, he laughed a little to himself at the visual before him and asked his mother more questions. They slowly got more used to each other's company. Slowly relaxing. His head wrapped around the dreamlike development.

Hiccup didn't even notice when his little sister and his companion stopped their little game. He didn't hear her own low growling roar directing Toothless to her new plan. It blended in so well with the rest of the nest, the background noise of roars and echos, that he wasn't aware he was being hunted until she tackled him in the side and knocked him off his feet.

He was surprised at it, the sheer force, not at all expecting any danger from being in a nest of dragons, and let out a little shout before he saw her knelt down by his side, lightly batting at him like his Night Fury friend had done so many times.

She was grinning, he could see. A playful one Toothless wore most of the time. But it was hesitant, not confident with how he would react to her game. She was as unsure of him as he was of her.

Unlike Hiccup, who grew up with vikings and had friends with siblings, Rama's only experience with brothers was the way she played with Snares and how she saw hatchlings playing with their broodmates.

But he was saved from an awkward encounter when a black nose stuck in close to his face and licked and cover his entire ear with slobber. Rama, that was her name, jumped up at the distraction and moved back to stand by their mother who was watching the entire exchange with glee.

"Ahh, _Toothless_!"

The Night Fury stepped back to allow him to stand again, his gummy smile was contagious and Hiccup couldn't help feel at peace again. Not even worrying about the looming dragon war. Everything was fine.

He couldn't forgive his mother right away, but he couldn't bring himself to be mad when he watched the sister he never knew he had begun encouraging a pale dragon he had never seen before to step closer and say hello.

Hiccup felt the usual excitement that filled his bones whenever he saw a new dragon like this one. The excitement he had been feeling since he first stepped foot into the open nest.

She coo'd at the shy creature, and he took the time to listen to the calls she made. Hiccup himself could mimic Toothless' call. All the riders on Berk could call their dragons like that, but his sister took it to an entirely new level. Having what seemed to be a whole conversation with growls and purrs.

Rama was curling up close to what looked like her own dragon. There were few dragons he had never seen, but the pale white and purply-blue one before him was remarkable.

Eventually Rama could push him forward where Toothless rumbled out a friendly hello and sniffed the newcomer's long snout in greeting.

The red hair on Rama's head was bouncing with her a little as she introduced her partner to her new brother.

"Snares is a little shy of new dragons," Valka informed him as the Phantom began a half circle to eye Hiccup up. Hiccup lifted a hand in his own hello and immediately the white dragon took a step back and narrowed his eyes, "And he's especially not used to vikings."

Rama barked something else out and Snares stepped up again, staring him down intently. Combined with the encouragement of his lifelong friend and rider, along with Hiccup's experience and love of dragons, it was a welcome new friendship between them.

His hands brushed over the nose of his sister's dragon, and his mother told him the species and story behind the rare sight.

They went flying out with him, his mother leading the way while his sister and her dragon flew quick circles around him that could easily rival Toothless' speed. They flew out with the thunder of dragons from the nest following to catch fish and eat and celebrate in a way he hadn't imagined possible.

One thing led to another, and he'd spent hours with his family without even a thought spared to his responsibility to go talk down Drago. Or to speak to his mother about his father.

He forgave her without thinking about it.

Was there ever a chance he wouldn't?

* * *

There was a drastic difference from their reunion when Stoick had arrived.

It was easy for Rama to forget that her mother had been a viking before coming to live with the dragons since she had heard the story a few hours earlier. Hiccup didn't look like any viking she had ever seen before. He walked different. Stood different. His eyes were different, and when he looked at the surrounding dragons he _saw_ them for what they _were_ \- - so unlike the trappers she was accustomed to fighting and hating.

This all abandoned her when she stood in front of her _father_.

She'd been there when he walked in, she could hear them clambering around in the caves, heard Hiccup's voice arguing with another viking's as they made their way through the nest. Rama had seen her usually fearless mother stiffen up, freeze in her place and do nothing to address the intruders.

Her lips had peeled back in a silent snarl when she saw the large, menacing, red viking man enter their chamber with a sword drawn. At first, he looked exactly like all the other vikings she had taken down in her life. Uncaring to the world of dragons and she was ready to fight him, but then- -

His eyes landed on her mother, and he froze in his place.

His sword dropped from his hand, and he removed his bull-horned helmet from his head.

Rama had never seen a viking do that before.

And she watched, the reaction her mother had to him approaching her so slowly. Rama listened as she pleaded and slowly understood.

This _Stoick_ was her father.

She could see it.

He was like her.

He was now standing in front of her. It was their turn to meet and unlike her encounter with Hiccup; she was suddenly unsure of what she should be doing.

"Stoick," Valka was by her husband's side. Hiccup was standing by Rama's, watching. "This is Valhallarama."

Valka never used Rama's full name unless she was in trouble, which Snares usually kept her out of; but Rama's eyes never left the ones in front of her.

Her father's eyes were soft now, looking over her face and the striking resemblances between them, and he repeated her name, "Valhallarama."

"Rama. After your mother."

Rama never knew this.

"You didn't tell me you were- -"

She named her after her father's mother.

"I didn't know until after."

Rama and Stoick didn't need to share words together. They were both too confused by the turn of events, unsure of their places together, but intrigued all the same. Stoick raised his hand slowly and patted her bright red hair, the short braid that rested over her shoulder.

She was as beautiful as his mother. As beautiful as his wife. He smiled at her.

He pulled her to his chest and hugged her against him.

At first Rama did nothing in return, the thick beard against her cheek was itchy and uncomfortable, but the arms surrounding her were nice. It was much softer than she was used to. Much smoother than the rough scales of dragons she felt all her life. She took a few moments before she could raise her arms up and return the gesture.

They were too alike to talk.

In fact, the day they met, they shared no direct words with each other at all.

They had all the time in the world now to get used to it, they both thought. For Rama to learn to interact with him. To talk and engage and train with her father like they would have done if he had raised her.

And he would have all the time in the world to figure out what words he wanted to say to her. What stories he wanted to tell her about her viking culture she didn't know. About her heritage as a Haddock.

He could take her fishing and hunting, like he used to do with Hiccup before- -

They had all the time in the world to figure it out.

They didn't need words.

They had time.


	2. Burning Midnight

**I want to thank everyone who reviewed the last chapter: Mellpen00, TheChanceyColborn, atrt7900, and that one Guest. I love you.**

 **So this one is based off of the comic by the same name. It was asked for by atrt7900. Hope this is up to your expectations, friendo :) If anyone else has any prompts or specific requests or anything, I'm totally open to the idea of writing a third chapter.**

 **Shout out to anyone who knows where I got the name Valhallarama from.**

 **Give me a break. I want reviews.**

 **Please.**

* * *

Rama wasn't sure she'd ever be used to living with humans.

Being stuck in close quarters with them made her nervous (which would then cause her to spend all of her energy trying to look like she _wasn't_ nervous (which ended up making her fairly irritable and turned off any semi-friendly vikings that felt like taking a chance to speak with her)). She spent her first weeks on Berk in a constant flux between confusion and frustration. Life there had been unlike anything she had ever experienced before. It was _exhausting_.

The only way she managed was thanks to Snares. His easygoing nature and calm integration to their new lives with humans was the complete opposite of her. To him, there was no real difference between living on Berk with other vikings than there had been in the nest. He was a loner, but he was always there for _her_. The only reason she could spend any amount of time around vikings that weren't her mother or brother was because of his serene presence at her side.

Berk was the first viking village Rama had ever really _seen_. They had introduced her into the Hairy Hooligan Tribe only hours after learning that her mother was even _from_ there, causing quite an uproar among the residents. Most of them were fairly welcoming after the initial shock (which one must add to their distress at their home being nearly destroyed by an ice-spitting leviathan, a sudden new wave of all the dragons from Valka and Rama's nest combined with all of Drago Bludvist's army, and the sudden death of their beloved chief), but there were a few. . . _incidents_ early on.

Just the first day, a few vikings had accidentally gotten too close to her than she was comfortable with, and she let out a harsh growl and snapped her teeth at them. In Rama's mind, the reaction was a warning. A simple action to tell them they were making her uncomfortable and to back off, a signal even the smallest dragon hatchling could read. There would be no hard feelings. However, despite living with dragons themselves for a few years, her perpetrators were not aware of the intent and saw it as a threat.

The noise that followed afterwards farther delayed the repairs on Berk and had to be mediated by Hiccup. In the back of her mind, Rama felt a little guilty about causing him more stress; but she couldn't wrap her mind around the miscommunication. It made her blood boil under her skin, being so lost for the first time in her life.

The next issue arose a few days later. She had been scaling a few of the buildings in the town, eating her evening meal with a few Nadders on the roof of a house, crouched down in an animistic way that caught the attention of a few passersby. They didn't like the way she acted at all. Many vikings left her be and kept out of her business; and if they judged her, they did so silently. However, there were a fair amount that did not see it this way.

It never crossed her mind that she _shouldn't_ climb up the sides of buildings and eat her meals with dragons. And after a long and, on her part anyway, confusing conversation with Hiccup, she was sentenced to only scale buildings she was specifically given permission to.

The rules of viking society made her head spin; and even after she felt like she was learning so much, there always seemed to be something else.

Rama did her best to stand and move upright on her legs and straighten her back out more, to mimic the ways she saw other vikings moving. She found early on that humans did not like her low crouch to the ground (something about it unnerved them; it seemed); but again, against her best efforts, the slightly hunched way she held her shoulders and predatory way her eyes scanned around her environment was uncanny.

A few men had even gone to Hiccup to complain that her inhuman behavior was _dangerous_ , and that it was a bad influence on the children that had taken to following her around the village (harmless, really. Of all the vikings in the village, these were the few she enjoyed seeing).

Hiccup immediately turned them away, firmly; and, as far as she was aware, no one had brought it up to him again. That didn't mean they didn't scoff, glare, shake their heads at her very existence. However silently.

Her brother seemed to always try his hardest to make things easy for her. He was enough like her mother it was easy to spend time with him.

Hiccup had invited Rama and their mother early on to come and stay in his home and, while she was very grateful of his invitation, Rama found that she couldn't get a good night's rest in a viking nest so easily. The wooden walls were too weak for her to feel safe lowering her guard inside. One accidental blast from a dragon and the entire building would fall in. She couldn't wrap her head around the decisions they, _humans_ , made.

Wouldn't it make more sense to mine into their mountain? Live in the natural tunnels and caverns that were already there? Surely it was safer?

It seemed large enough, and they already proved that they were capable from the Grand Hall they gathered together in for meetings and communal dinners.

Rama understood she needed to learn their ways; and, on some level, she _wanted_ to. But staying on Berk, for more than a few days at a time, made her skin crawl as though something were nestling under there. Her stomach would not rest. She felt like closing in on herself and became more resentful and frustrated the longer it went on.

It was getting better.

Slowly.

But she still took every chance she could to get away from them all. It was remarkably easier to spend time with her mother and brother and the other dragon riders he surrounded himself (though just barely) with than any of the rest of the island. Even after being named chief, the alpha of the humans after their father, Hiccup still made time to travel around with his inner circle when the occasion required it.

Which lead them to where they were now.

The group had been investigating an island nearby. The native dragons seemed to be especially aggressive and territorial with the unique ability to spit a sticky foam that caught prey the size of a Nightmare and attached them to the ground or nearby trees or the like. The group had been ambushed soon after arriving and all of their dragons had been caught in the line of fire aside from Toothless.

The Night Fury's speed was rivaled only by Snares; but, unluckily, Snare's bright white scales reflected off of the moon and made him a glowing target. A Silver Phantom's best chances always lived high in the sky, not weaving between trees as they had been doing. It would have been next to impossible to escape from the surprise attack from a pack of unfamiliar dragons. Valka's strong arm latched onto the back of her hood, knowing fully well that Rama would not leave her partner unless someone dragged her.

As soon as all of them had taken refuge inside, Toothless let out a glowing purple blast to block the overwhelming pack clambering to get them from outside.

The aggressive and wild dragons were worthy adversaries; and, on some level, Rama admired them. However, this admiration was greatly overshadowed by her anxiety at being locked away with humans and separated from her other half. Snare's calming effect and patients constantly reminded her to be careful and kept her from losing it. And now she was stuck in close quarters with humans while he was out there, caught in a web and ready to be eaten.

They had only been inside for a few minutes since the resident Night Fury had blasted the entrance to cave in, but someone had already gathered together enough material to start a small fire. Most of the dragon riders had taken seats around the cozy campfire on nearby rubble, fairly relaxed despite the circumstances that had landed them there.

 _Humans_.

Rama knew she was just looking for any excuse to be bitter. She would be just as easygoing as they if her companion was with her. Nevertheless, she felt the beginnings of an angry growl rise in her throat. A reflex. She was furious.

Rama scaled the rocky wall keeping them inside to peer through the cracks. To her right, another of Hiccup's companions did the same.

She felt the hairs along her arms rise at the small gap between them. Of all of Hiccup's friends, this one . . . _irritated_ her the most. He had been a dragon trapper before he turned to live on Berk with the Hooligans, and was, himself, an outsider. She felt deep down she owed him, considering his loud, boastful nature kept most of the attention of the tribe on him and away from her.

But he had been a _t_ _rapper_. He sold dragons to the man responsible for her father's demise. Rama knew the rest of Berk had done much the same a short five years ago, even went as far as to slaughter them for sport; but he was remarkably _stupid_ when it came to dragons and it made her livid just watching.

He showed no hint he would betray dragons now he had switched sides, and Hiccup trusted him enough to bring him along on their missions and even left their father's dragon in his care after his passing. But just the _knowledge_. Just _knowing_ his history and seeing the leftovers of that life as he learned the simplest of tips about his new allies.

The Rumblehorn he rode was a very serious dragon and, as much as she hated to admit it, was extraordinarily well fit to work with the man.

This _Eret_ character was set straight more by his own dragon than he was by any of the experienced human riders he flew with.

Rama couldn't help watch every time she saw him try to show off (only to fail spectacularly immediately afterwards). Her mind had wandered more than once to the relationship between Skullcrusher and the former trapper.

Despite his inexperience (and _questionable_ background), the Rumblehorn seemed to really _like_ him. It baffled her.

The man that addressed himself as the _greatest dragon wrangler_ in all the world, only to be proven wrong time and time again. The Rumblehorn that spent his spare time sitting with the sick or injured dragons to keep them company while they healed in the medicine caves. The man that learned to trust dragons just like _that_ after a lifetime of destroying their lives and treating them like property.

Skullcrusher was a natural leader that took up the responsibility of keeping the baby Scuttleclaws in line after they began setting fires and destroying buildings on Berk.

Eret was a cocky know-it-all that didn't seem to actually know _anything_.

They were so _different_ , but seemed to bond better than most of the other Berkians had.

Was it because Eret reminded the Rumblehorn of his last rider?

She had no clue how similar Eret was with her late father. She'd been avoiding talking about his death since before his funeral.

It was another source of frustration for her.

Not knowing.

She did what she always did in that kind of situation: she peered through the cracks of the rugged barrier in front of her, looking outwards at the enemy rather than at what was happening inside her own head. Her fingers were pale white from the tight grip she had and she stared a hole through the other side to avoid thinking about how her former worst enemy was only an arm's length from her side.

Hiccup trusted him.

 _She_ trusted Hiccup.

The hole in the wall offered little for her in assessing their assailants. It was still very dark outside and the way the foreign dragons seemed to blend in with the dark gray and green environment made it difficult to spot them. It was easier to just listen for them, the echoing calls breaking through the small cracks in the rock wall that didn't seem to give her any favorable information. The cave they were in was located near inside a canyon and the sounds outside were bouncing along every surface before they reached her ears.

 _. . . trespass. . . hunger. . . trespass. . . fight. . ._

It was no wonder the dragons had attacked the party, really. These dragons were a tightly nit community and extremely territorial.

Behind her, another low rumbling growl vibrated through the still air of the cave.

"Easy, bud- -" Hiccup was quick to calm his partner, one comforting hand pressed to the shoulder of the Night Fury. "I hear them, too. We all do."

"Nothing we can't handle, chief," The outlander beside her replied confidently. "I counted only forty or so before Toothless sealed us in here. Let's storm the lot of them and- -"

"No one wants to _save_ our dragons more than me, Eret," Hiccup interrupted him before the man could go on. "But first, Toothless needs to regain his strength."

Rama jumped from the rocky wall she was hanging on quietly and moved to stand beside her brother as he was speaking.

"Seriously?!" The shortest of Hiccup's companions shouted out. "I always thought me and Hookfang would make it to Valhalla in a blaze of glory; not buried alive with _you_ losers!"

Snotlout was rude and disrespectful. Rama had the most trouble with him when it came to vikings getting too cozy or getting too close to her. More often than not, he was one to wrap an arm around her shoulders and talk to her funny. She always had the impression he was making fun of her, which made her knock his legs out from under him and bend his limbs in ways they weren't meant to bend.

Astrid, Hiccup's betrothed, thought this was especially funny.

Out of all of her brother's companions, she liked the blonde warrior the best.

"And nothing would have made us happier than to start that blaze, Snotlout," One of the Zippleback's riders commented with a gleefully cruel smile.

Rama always had trouble telling the two apart.

"We can still set you on fire if you want. . ." The other finished.

The mischievous pair had eluded Rama so far. She wasn't sure she wanted to understand them.

"Ha!" The big-bellied blacksmith laughed at them. He was a scarred warrior and one of the few vikings Hiccup actively went to for advice. "You know what this reminds me of?"

Rama avoided speaking with him when she could.

"This reminds me of the time Stoick and I went hunting after the Monstrous Nightmares that took my hand and leg."

But that doesn't mean she didn't listen to every word that came out of his mouth.

"We got separated from the rest of our search party during a maelstrom; but survived by swatting back Thor's lighting with our _axes_ , as you do."

His storytelling (which was not an especially rare occurrence) was unlike anything else she had heard before. One of the very few things she so greatly admired about the viking people.

"Of course, we grew bored of taming the elements after a while and decided to take shelter in a cave just like _this_ one!"

Maybe she just loved stories in general.

"Only that cave _wasn't_ empty! It was chockablock full of- -"

. . .

 _The two men had strolled inside the cave fearlessly, arms draped over each other's shoulders like the best friends they were. They only stopped after spotting over thirty heads spring up to growl at them._

 _"_ Snapptrappers _!" Gobber exclaimed, seeming more annoyed than alarmed at the sight before him. A dragon species that would put a Zippleback to shame: they all sprouted_ four _heads each. "I thought I smelled chocolate- - and_ death _!"_

 _Stoick let out a bellowing laugh, "Aye, Gobber. Just pretend you're pulling_ weeds _back on Berk."_

 _Immediately the lifelong friends set to work: tying together four heads here, punching the lights out of another over there, headbutting another unconscious to the side._

 _"I usually need_ two _hands for that, Stoick!"_

 _"You'll make due, my friend. You always do!"_

 _They finished their work just as the storm outside ended and took their time to pull out drinks to celebrate._

. . .

"Everyone talks about the _Greeks_ and their _Hydra_ ," Gobber waved one arm at the mention, scoffing. "But _we_ did it a _lot_ more _humanely_!"

The seasoned jack-of-all trades seemed exceptionally proud of this moment in his life, and Rama couldn't help believe the account. The scowl on her face didn't leave at the end as she analysed the contents.

"Gobber," A nasally sort of voice slowly piped up from the other side of the fire. "That story can't possibly have happened. Swatting lightning with _axes_?"

While Fishlegs seemed confused and a little annoyed by the validity of the adventure, Astrid asked with an amused smirk, "And where did those flagons of _mead_ come from?"

"Ehh, details, details. . ." Gobber waved his fake hand at the questions.

Rama was . . . _intrigued_ by the topic. It wasn't everyday she heard stories about what her father was really like (because she was _not_ going to ask and iniciate conversation on her own), and even hearing the ones of the time before he learned to respect dragons were something she deeply craved.

She sat crouched on her rock as she turned the story over in her head.

"Actually, Gobber's tall tale reminds me of the time Stoick and I- -"

"Oh, no, Fishlegs!" Snotlout jumped up at his friend, on hand covering the larger man's mouth to keep him from saying anything else. "Your boring stories always involve two things: dragon facts and a menu of what kind of rocks Meatlug ate in the last five minutes!"

The shorter Nightmare rider jumped up from his place to stand directly in the fire's light for the optimal effect. His back was proudly straightened, and he hooked his hands around his belt. He smugly began.

"It's time for a real story of heroism, as told in the sensational Snotlout style!"

He seemed to have something stuck in his eye because one of his blinked close unexpectedly as he was leaning over to look at her. Her nose wrinkled at him.

"I was just returning from my morning workout- - fifty reps on the Iron Pummeler, if I do recall correctly, no big deal- - when our poor, defenseless island was suddenly attacked by a stampede of. . ."

. . .

 _"Thunderclaws!" Stoick wailed hopelessly, hunched over on the ground with his hands collected over his head in some protection. "But- - oh, no- - I have twisted my ankle! What_ will _I do?"_

 _Thunderclaws were a unique species that didn't fly when they were panicking: a trait that made them easy for trappers to capture them. Unfortunately for Berk at the time, this made them just as dangerous when stampeding in a group._

 _Luckily for Stoick, Snotlout was wearing his special anti-Thunderclaw repellent underwear at the time and used his enormous muscles to pick the four-hundred pound chief over his shoulder to keep him safe._

 _"Thank Odin! It's Snotlout! What a fine,_ strapping _chief he'd make!"_

 _. . ._

"Yeah, Stoick went on to say how much better I was than Hiccup at pretty much everything, especially _not whining_. And then he said I could have my pick of any of Berk's lovely ladi- - _owww_!"

Snotlout's voice rose several octaves as his arm was suddenly wrenched behind his back.

"Uh, I mean, Stoick saved my life. _Ow_! Again."

. . .

 _"Would you mind not_ crying _into my cape, Snotlout?" Stoick snapped, hardly sympathetic as he outran the thirteen-thousand pound dragon stampede chasing after them._

 _Snotlout's pathetic wriggling over his shoulder as he panicked was not at all making the chief's job any easier. He was a grown man, for Thor's sake!_

 _"Odin above, why can't you be more like Hiccup!"_

. . .

"That's- -Ow!- -That's how it really happened! _Oww_!"

"Neat story, Snotlout!" Astrid praised him with a false smile. "Thanks for telling the _truth_ , eventually."

The same pathetic wriggling he performed here under her harsh treatment had not phased the warrior. She merely wrenched the arm back farther, making the rest of the occupants of the cave raise eyebrows at the clear _pop_ sound that echoed around them.

The sudden screech from outside the den finally made her let him go. Everyone became remarkably still as they listened to the harsh claws on the stone just outside their hiding place, accompanied by intimidating snarls and hisses.

Rama's smirk wiped from her face quickly, leaning forward in her crouch to peer intently at the solid wall before them. The muscles in her legs were tense, and each of the inhabitants got ready for a fight.

Eret, who was the closest to the wall, pulled out an unfamiliar tool she often saw him playing Throw and Catch with. It was a decorated bone with symbols carved into it, bent at the middle in a triangle with an absent hypotenuse. It wasn't lethal, but a hard hit on the head from it could definitely incapacitate someone or distract a dragon.

"They're getting closer."

Astrid leaned down to pick up her own cherished axe, examining her face in the reflection as she answered him. "Then what say we keep these campfire stories going while we still can? I remember this one time- -"

Everyone slowly sat back down to their original places around the fire, trying to lose the tension as long as they could before the coming fight outside.

"It was right before Stormfly and I tracked Hiccup and Toothless to Itchy Armpit. . ."

. . .

 _The sun was high in the sky now. Astrid could hear the villagers behind her still cheering in their excitement over the morning races. It would be the talk of the island for hours as vikings went about their daily business as usual._

 _Stoick was standing by the edge, looking off into the sea, far past the ancient stone guardians that had been built there by the generations before him._

 _His eyes looked heavier in the recent years. New wrinkles sprouting over his skin. While much of the stress of the raids of fierce dragons had left him, his plate found itself filled with new problems that he had never been trained to handle._

 _Hiccup was at the center of most of them._

 _"Family squabble?" Astrid's tone was light as she moved to join him. Stormfly by her shoulder._

 _"How you put up with my son, I'll never know," Stoick sighed out heavily, never turning his face away from the open sea his son had left to explore. "He's got his mother's fire in him."_

 _"Don't worry," His future daughter-in-law reassured him, reaching his side to peer out over the island's edge. "Hiccup always comes back. He and Toothless just need to blow off some steam."_

 _Stoick turned to face her. His bulky hands lifted to rest on her shoulders as he gave her a father-like smile. "You know, you'd make a fine Chief of Berk, Astrid. You have all the qualities of a leader: strength, honesty, discipline, patients- -"_

 _"Not so sure about that last one. Besides, I'm a warrior, not a leader."_

 _Stoick threw his head back and the laugh that sprang out from his throat could be felt throughout his belly as he lifted her into a warm hug._

 _The reaction made Astrid grin, "Um, I wasn't joking."_

 _"I know, I know," Stoick let her down. "It's just, Hiccup's mother- - Valka- - she and I always dreamed of having a daughter of our own." The callouses of his hands framed her face while spoke, gentle eyes adoring as he admired her, "And now, in you- - the spirited warrior who keeps watch over all of Berk, including our son- - well, we finally have that daughter."_

. . .

"My husband may have been wrong about a great many things, but he was certainly right about you, Astrid," Valka had stood, mirroring her husband's hands and framing the blonde warrior's face.

"Thanks, Valka," The younger woman replied. "But I have to say, you and Stoick seem so _different_. How'd you know you were right for each other? Was it your first kiss? Your first _dance_?"

"Nope," The older woman answered with a smile. "It was our first fistfight."

The stark answer made the cave's inhabitants all crack little grins.

"The Berserkers were trying to invade Berk _again_ , back when Oswald the Agreeable was known as Oswald the _Antagonistic_ ," Rama saw her mother's eyes cloud over reminiscing at the days gone by. The soft smile that found its way on her face was evidence enough of how much she loved him. Enough to draw the young woman into the story. "Stoick had a right cross that would make you weak to the knees- - in more ways than one."

. . .

 _"Val, I- - heh- - noticed you've really developed your, ah, uppercut lately," The young chief complimented her, showing off his own skills by knocking the breath out of his enemies with his bare hands._

 _Valka spared him a smile, dodging the clean swipe of a sword to her left, "And I noticed you've finally opened your eyes and started paying attention, Stoick."_

 _The both of them were surrounded, weaponless. The Berserkers had closed in a circle around them, prepared for the battle in their armor and wielding freshly sharpened swords._

 _The two Berkians weren't concerned in the least, complimenting each other and admiring the others form as they slew invaders left and right._

. . .

"It didn't hurt that he had a pretty good singing voice, to boot."

. . .

 _In no time at all, the two lovebirds had defeated all the attackers, leaving them in piles in the surrounding grass. The sounds of song emanating from their lips were an abrupt contrast to the groans of pain and regret surrounding them._

 _The young couple were dancing gracefully, easily stepping over the spare limbs and bodies strewn about._

 _"But I would bring you rings of gold and even sing you poetry, and I would keep you from all harm, if you would stay beside me - -"_

 _"- -I have no use for rings of gold, I care not for your poetry, I only want your hand to hold- -"_

 _"I only want you near me!"_

. . .

There was a hearty laugh echoing around the cave. She could easily see the sight in her mind's eye. Rama could imagine her parents' shadows dancing against the warm glow of the fire in front of her. It brought a genuine smile on her face; the night stretching muscles that had seen little use in the last few weeks.

"Uh, yeah, that was all romantic and a tearjerker and whatnot," The harsh gravelly voice of one of the Zippleback twins cut through her head as they stole the wheel. "But the time for tear jerking is over. Now is the time for _fear jerking_!"

The other half took up where the first left off, "Behold a tale so sinister, so _maddening_ , it will make your sixth toes curl!"

Rama's eyebrows furrowed.

. . .

 _"Thank you for granting us your trickster powers, Lord Loki!" The praise was being shouted as the great deceiver soared through the sky, purple and green smoke blasting behind him as his glorious cape flowed through the wind. "Our dark prayers have finally been answered!"_

 _"And not a moment too soon, Tuffnado! For we must now face our greatest challenge," The twins rocketed around the band, finally laying eyes on their adversary. "The attack of the Fifty-Foot Gothi!"_

 _The former medicine woman, the elder of the tribe, had grown to an immense size! Along her face dark green monstrous scales were blooming, and a tail had sprouted underneath her long shirt. The Fifty-Foot Gothi let out a roar that could rival that of a Screaming Death moments before she began to breathe out billowing clouds of fire and incinerated the homely and oblivious village of Berk._

 _"Stand back, Ruffnuckles! I'm going to Ragnarok her world with a Jötunn Jab right to the- -"_

. . .

"Um," The nasally voice of the Gronckle rider saved the rest of the riders from hearing anything else. "That had absolutely nothing to do with Stoick."

The twins giggled and snorted at their own antics, still making their own strange sounds in the aftermath of their epic, "pew, pew" and "ka- _boom_!"

"Did you two hit your heads when Toothless collapsed the cave entrance?" Astrid harshly shouted at them as though that would help her drill her words in their thick skulls any better.

"And Ruffnut's the only one with the sixth toe," Snotlout _helpfully_ pointed out, arms crossed over his chest and an unimpressed look on his face.

"Hiccup?" Astrid's voice was suddenly softer, kinder, as she turned to look at her fiancé. "We haven't heard from you yet. Anything you want to share about Stoick?"

Rama, along with the rest of the riders, watched their chief as he stood silent for several seconds. The emotions on his face were difficult for Rama to read. Human body language was never something. . . Without thinking, her green eyes drifted to her second brother, the incredibly intelligent dragon so. . . _partially_ responsible for their father's death.

Toothless' eyes were closed, and his head turned slightly away from the warm glow of the fire, his human companion at his side. A sure sign of regret. Sadness. Recalling a painful memory. Rama had been there when it happened. Witnessing. Had stood, frozen, watching as her brother cried over their father's body.

It seemed like all the fighting had stopped in a second. It was eerily quiet.

It was difficult for Rama to understand. It felt like a dream. It wasn't actually happening. Couldn't be.

But then Hiccup was shouting, screaming at Toothless; chasing him away. Blaming him and lashing out.

Rama didn't think it at the time, but it must have been very hard for Hiccup to grasp how great of an influence the alpha dragon has. He hadn't grown under the care of an alpha. He didn't understand the lack of control his companion had. Not really.

Pairing that with the trauma of losing his father to his brother's fire.

It was just another stab in the chest.

Rama didn't realize that she had such a tight hold on Snares until he pulled away from her, and the alpha was controlling her dragon half just as he had done with her brother's. She called after him, trying to break him from his hold even though she knew it was hopeless; but her lifelong companion didn't even spare her a glance. It was not long before he disappeared from her sight into the growing thunder in the sky.

It was the first time an external force had ever separated them. . . or at all really. Until now.

Rama turned back to her human brother.

The emotion on his face was difficult to read.

Bittersweet.

Their father had such an impact on everyone there. Telling stories about the great chief was heartwarming. Rama could feel the smile lifting up onto her face as she thought about how great her father, a _viking_ , was; only just accompanied by the chilly stab to her heart at the realization here. She knew, if she was so like him as her mother had said before, she would be all right.

She and her brother would carry on. Push through and reach the other side.

Hiccup would lead them there.

He had a smile on his face as he looked around the cave. He turned to his sister, looking over her bright red hair and the same familiar green eyes, as he opened his mouth to answer them, "Only that dad would've liked this. What we're doing right here, right now, telling stories before a big battle."

He reached into his strange leather suit, pulling free his flaming sword and the several canisters that carried the saliva of Monstrous Nightmares, gesturing for the group to hold out their own weapons.

Rama's own short-sword wasn't used often. It was a gift from her mother from her days before living with dragons (Val assured her daughter it was a virgin blade never brought up against a dragon in combat when she proved to be hesitant), but the rider was glad she brought it along on the mission this time.

Hiccup coated both sides of the blade in the foggy saliva and moving along to the hammers and axes of the other vikings beside her. It was fairly clear what his plan was.

"Dad used to call it 'Burning Midnight,'" He went on, shaking the last canister to empty it as much as possible. "And that's exactly what we'll have to do if we're ever gonna get out of this cave and rescue our dragons."

The mood in the cave had shifted. The question of whether they would make it out alive or not was replaced with the great memory of their former chief. The anxiety of being separated from their dragons was smoothed over with rekindled determination to rescue them. Everyone stood up and looked to their leader for the word.

"Okay, let's light 'em up."

Rama thrust the end of her sword into the fire, igniting it.

"For freedom."

Toothless shook out his neck once before letting out a powerful blast at the entrance.

"For Berk."

At once, there were loud screeches echoing around the canyon before them. The spiderlike feral dragons had them surrounded and were ready to charge into battle.

"For _Stoick_."


	3. Swimming

**So. I didn't know I was going to write another one.**

 **Again, I meant the first chapter as a stand alone, but it really was my favorite of all the stories I've written for HTTYD so I guess I'm gonna call this a collection of One Shots?**

 **The title of this one comes from a Florence + the Machine song.**

 _ **Swimming**_

* * *

Rama was very comfortable in the darkness. She'd long lost track of the days she spent riding through the dark night on Snares' back, gliding through under the light of the moon hanging above them. It all began to flow into one long blur with no definite transition of the sun replacing the moon and repeat.

The pair had recently left on a month long rest, giving her the much needed relaxation of flying to the neighboring islands, away from the world of buildings and vikings. It had been a long awaited vacation of sorts, after the long months helping her brother and his people clean away the debris of ice and rock. Even the stables, where she spent most of her time when not in the wilderness of Berk's woods, needed rebuilding to accommodate the sudden new influx of dragons that came to live with them.

The interaction, the noise, the talking, all the trivial things she needed to remind herself of as to not cause problems. It made her teeth grind together and a red hot rage build in her she knew would boil over if she did not take some _precautions_.

It was astonishing how quickly the madness faded from her as Berk faded behind her, and she was left over an open ocean. The wind in her face and her hair blowing away the troubles on her mind and hanging down on her shoulders.

She and Snares island hopped for the weeks following, her mind sleeping away the worries as her body did as it was meant to. She hunted boar, wolves, fished with sharp spears in the flowing rivers. She free hand climbed the mountain peeks, feeling bliss at the sharp pain from the rocks on her hands after hours of work.

Pushing her body to the brink, it helped her relax. It cleared away everything in her mind. Made her feel the freedom she had before- -

She could breath again.

Snares kept her body close on these nights, cocooning his wings around her as they watched their small campfire burn out and reveal the sea of stars over them. They always slept together, touch starved in their own ways. Being apart from each other, from the days they were needed in the rebuilding effort, the time the Silkspinner dragons had captured him along with all the other dragons on their expedition, to the day her viking father was killed, all of them left her feeling empty and cold. The feeling of bugs crawling under her skin, antsy, stressed, searching so desperately for something. Jittery and frustrated.

But the month long rest they took, it was a long awaited respite.

It was obvious, to those looking for it.

Maybe even for those who weren't.

Anyone who looked to her, they could see the tense coiled knot inside. Twisting farther and farther every day she stayed, and fending off all but those closest to her family.

Her mother saw it coming a mile off.

"You're planning on leaving soon," It wasn't a question, hearing her mother's voice behind her.

Rama didn't turn from her place, chopping the logs brought in by the vikings earlier that day. It was _obvious_. There were many dragons who could do this job instead, swifter, cleaner even. Rama knew this better than anyone.

Physical, strenuous activity. That was what kept her going. Anything to distract from the feelings developing on her insides.

She lifted the axe up higher and brought it down straight through the wood.

"Rama."

The daughter shifted again, turning to her mother at the noise. The axe loosened in her grip, but the tense feeling in her shoulders never fell.

"You don't need to carry all the weight," Her mother's calming voice said. "You can't jump into a world like this headfirst and expect to swim. It's natural for you to need a break."

Rama was silent.

"A _rest,_ " Valka clarified.

The daughter's eyes narrowed, and she turned back to her work. Her teeth were bared though her back was turned, " _You did_."

For the first time in her life, she felt _weak_. Powerless. _Stupid_. She had never once questioned her life before that day. She had always accepted in her heart of hearts that she belonged there, in a nest of dragons. In the sky, letting her hands brush through the clouds on the back of her lifelong companion.

Everything was wrong now, and she so desperately wanted to fix it. To return to how she felt before.

For the first time in her life, she was an intruder who didn't belong. She hated it.

The axe fell down again. An unfamiliar motion, but exhilarating and burning in her muscles nevertheless.

The most she could do to be _useful_. Her jaw clenched.

But however close the mother and daughter were, Valka couldn't read her mind.

"I did what?"

"You jumped headfirst into a new world."

 _\- - Chop - -_

" _You_ learned to swim."

"That was different."

 _\- - Chop - -_

" _How_?" Rama turned on her mother, facing her fully and rising to her full height. "You were plucked from your home the same age as me, and thrust into a nest of dragons. You were alone and you learned and you _flew_. I came here of my own free will, with my mother and my brothers to help me, and I still feel like a baby who hasn't even opened their eyes."

There was whine behind her, shrill and echoing. And so _familiar_. Her eyes closed and the axe dropped from her hand, hitting the earth with a thud. She immediately reaching out to the comfort of her brother's smooth scales.

Her mother did not speak for a moment.

"Vikings are not the kind and gentle creatures you are used to." Her voice was quiet in the empty forest. "Dragons do not lie or cheat and they do not kill needlessly. They do not care who you were and where you came from. They only see you as you are now."

Rama tilted her head at her mother. Even now, an act showing the nurturing familial beasts she had been raised alongside. Her mother closed the few steps separating them, reaching out one hand to brush her daughter's cheek gently.

She repeated again, "You don't have to jump headfirst. I'll tell Hiccup you needed your break."

Rama's eyes drifted from their place glued to the front of Valka's shirt, before trailing up to meet her pale blue eyes. The anger was gone, the rage left. The emotions being replaced with a tired grief.

She wouldn't feel better until she had her moment to break away.

One hand rose to grip her mothers, holding it close and bringing it to the front of her face to brush her lips. Her eyes closed for a short moment, breathing in her mother's scent and letting the memory of the old times wash over her.

Then her eyes opened.

The tired, angry, look was replaced with the familiar face of stubborn determination. The acceptance of what it was she really needed. Their hands fell apart, fingers brushing one last final time before Rama let out a growling purr of goodbye. The sound of which she hadn't had the chance to use in _months_.

Refreshing feelings brushed over at the rumble in her throat, and she felt like howling it from the skies above.

Not yet.

She could already see the smile resting on her mother's face as the young woman shook out her shoulders, leaving behind the forced straightened gait. Once again she embraced the prowling stalk she'd been stifling for so long.

Her head turned, staring deep into the golden eyes of her brother. His dilated pupils began to thin as he anticipated her next action, his tail beginning to twitch at his urge to fly in the clouds at his highest speeds. His pearly white teeth touched the air as his mouth opened slightly in something that might resemble a grin.

Both of them ready and waiting and excited to sleep beneath the stars in the unknown wilderness on their own.

And they had.

The moon cycling through the entire month.

Wandering aimlessly, working out all of their stress in the ways only they knew how to.

This was inevitable.

It was refreshing.

The entire world before her with clean, crisp air she could breathe.

But they weren't finished.

Always, in the back of her minds. In her dreams since that smoke-filled day. The cries of her reptilian family echoing between her ears, the familiar teal crystals of ice passing in and out of her vision with the snow. She remembered it vividly.

Even now she could smell the air, the burning of wood and bodies and the flammable gases being released.

The seconds when everything went silent, and the pure snowy heaving form of her alpha slammed to the ground and shook the earth.

The short minutes after when she saw her viking father fall still in a cloud of dark smoke.

Rama never wanted to return. Deep inside she didn't think she could handle it.

She mourned the great Bewilderbeast who kept her and her family safe all her life. They had paid their respects since then, the night her nestmates accepted their new dragon alpha and chose to follow him.

Rama cried silently, beside her mother. Sitting quietly as they watched the display of fire in the sky and listened to the howls and songs the dragons sang in his honor. Hiccup had been with them during this, as well as all of his people.

Silently as she had when they set off her viking father's body for his funeral. She remembered, staring long at the vikings as they shed tears. They all did, save the tall one with black hair (she later knew to be Eret son of Eret, a former trapper) and her mother.

It didn't feel fair for her to. Did she even have a right to? He might have been her father, but they didn't know each other. What was there to mourn?

Rama pushed the hurt from her mind, the vision of the kind and gentle alpha she grew up with, and she set her sights on the lanky form of her brother, listening as his voice vowed to protect his tribe and take up the mantle his father had left.

She and Hiccup didn't share many words. He was often busy taking care of his new duties as a chief, and neither of them were very good at social interaction. But she thought often of this moment as they each mourned the loss of the great leaders.

They would sit quietly together, go on long flights sometimes. Then on occasion he would request some help with some debris or with the new influx of dragons. Rama would do as he asked, _when_ he asked.

He deserved her help.

Hiccup had lost his father. A man he held in so high regard. But that did not take away from the sorrow he felt at the death of the alpha.

Rama didn't know how to mourn someone she didn't know.

It hit her on the inside, watching her brother step into _his_ father's role as the _chief_. She watched as her mother walked the paths in the viking village, eyes lingering on the places she held hands with her late husband, and the first night after they'd returned when Hiccup offered her Stoick's old room in the house. They missed him terribly. The loss was worse on them than her. Surely.

She listened silently to any mention of the great _Stoick the Vast_. Drank in every story, every artifact he left behind.

But it never changed.

She didn't grow from her grief, like Hiccup and her mother. They both were able to move past it as they embraced their new roles in the tribe. This feeling didn't fade as it did with the Bewilderbeast, shifting form into something bittersweet, learning so smile as she thought of his majestic being.

It was just _hard_ , a weight, a cloud, hanging over her wherever she darkened with her shadow.

And she didn't know, or didn't want to know, what to do about it.

Snares knew her well in this, and she hardly noticed before he turned his sights on the wind path to their old home.

And she didn't say anything when she saw the clear image in front of her.

The ever frozen spines silhouetted against the pale sky. The colorless beach, debris still sprinkled along even after half of the year had passed.

Even the air smelled the same. Salt and sea and still-melting ice. Reminding her of the past, just as her mother's scent could bring her back to a time when she was young.

But it wasn't her home anymore.

Snares weaved through the caverns inside, leading them to the central cave she spent her best years. She never strayed from her brother's side, keeping one hand reached out.

For comfort, for warmth.

For the gentle reminder that she wasn't alone.

He had lost his alpha as well, and they had healed from it together.

He could see through her, knew what it was she needed.

It wasn't all just learning to swim in new waters. Different waters with different fish and different tides.

Their old nest was still there. The smooth shelter of the stones she would sleep in with her brother, curled against his belly. The heated springs of the Nightmares sleeping under them kept her warm and comfortable even in the harshest of winters.

Not that she ever felt the chill when resting against the wings of her life-long partner.

Watching the eyes of her brother, nearly glowing yellow in the dark, it was no work at all to fade back into the lost days. She kept going back, in her head, disbelieving.

Even after all these months, it was hard to grasp.

Expecting each morning to wake up to find it a dream.

But it was true.

And this, no matter how much she wanted it to be, was not her home anymore.

Her old alpha was dead. Everyone had left. The caverns that used to carry the echos of her family were now silent and bare. Leaving a hollow feeling in the nest that it had never seen before, breathing in the stale scent that had been left behind.

One more week they stayed there, exploring every last crack and corner. She left no stone unturned. She climbed the highest of the ledges, bare handed, calling out the different calls of the former residents. Listening to their echoes as she went.

One last time hearing the sounds of purring as they bounced off the stones and ice, locking it into the deepest parts of her brain to keep it safe.

She spent her whole life in this nest. Climbed its icy walls, explored its hidden caves, swam its smooth pools. She's traveled every inch.

But she never thought she'd see it like this.

Empty, echoing, lifeless. A gaping hole where the alpha used to rest.

The bright colors of the plants seemed dimmer now. The life had left them when the last of the dragons had flown away those many months ago.

She breathed in and looked to the ceiling where the light from the outside still shone through.

It would be many centuries before all the ice melted away.

She looked to Snares, as he stayed by her side, and she knew they had to leave. After they had logged every last leaf and pebble into her mind's eye, they moved their attention outwards, onto the beach.

To the battlefield where the two great leader's fell.

* * *

His body was still there.

It seemed smaller somehow. The snowy scales hadn't caved in with rot, but seemed to grey and turn to stone. The bleeding wounds from his exposed underside had stained the beach, leaving it black after so long.

Snares and Rama both paid their respects, eyes filling over as they returned to his grave. She could imagine, centuries in the future, humans finding his skeleton and standing in awe at his size and will.

She bowed to him again, resting on the beach, eyes averting from the hardened injuries to his belly. She and Snares stayed by his tusks, the former resting her palm against the bone.

It felt cold. Like stone.

The two young ones rested against their former alpha, eyes closed, facing the sea. Remembering him.

How he cared for them, fed them, kept them safe.

Her eyes opened again, drifting closer to the waves as they gently passed over the stones before her. She looked out into the sea, into the black depths where she knew her father's ship had sunk.

The palm of her hand, the tips of her fingers, brushed over Snare's smooth neck, behind his head and his horns. This was why they had come. Why her brother had brought her here.

It put things in perspective for her, gave her the time she needed to come to terms with it on her own.

She wouldn't have been able to on Berk, surrounded by the noise and the vikings.

But here, with the fresh breath of air and winds, and the soothing sounds of waves against the shore, the scents and sights she had grown up with.

Her alpha and father were both dead.

But Rama was here. She was going to live.

She looked back in her brother's eyes, wiping the stray streaks of water from her cheeks as she gave him the first smile in a long time. She'd learned now, the one final lesson her alpha could teach her now that they were on their own. She knew how to deal with death.

The weight had shifted now. It wasn't gone completely. That would take much longer. But now she knew how to dislodge it, to pick away at the heaviness on her back until she would one day be free of it.

Free enough to swim on her own.

She leaned forward and rested her head on her brother, feeling his hot breath engulf her neck as he nuzzled her back.

It was going to be fine.

They were going home.

* * *

 **I do have another idea for this story, which is probably going to show up next, but I'm pretty open to suggestions if any kind reviewers have any.**


End file.
